Page 84 of Afterglow

Bryce

Thirty Weeks ~ Baby is the size of a platypus

Ihaven’t seen this house so full of joy in a long time, which is saying something, since Alex and Delia are two of the most joyful people I know. Even after losing Sarah, they’ve always been able to find the good, find the light, but today… this is a whole other level.

Leanne cackles with laughter beside me, her hand landing on my knee and sending a jolt of electricity through my entire body. Lacing my fingers through hers, I brush a kiss on her palm. I’m silently begging her to look at me because I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe until I see the glowing smile on her face right now.

It’s dazzling and bright, pushing her flushed cheeks high and forcing laugh lines into the corners of her eyes. Her blonde hair is curled but pulled up into a high ponytail that swishes down her back, with only small tendrils framing her beautiful face.

I love this woman.

I love her, and it’s getting harder and harder to hold the words in.

“Aww, y’all are too cute,” Becca singsongs from where she’s leaning against the wall, having left the couches open for Leanne’s family and friends. “Kiss, kiss, kiss,” she chants.

The soft pink color that’s always present on Leanne’s cheeks these days turns scarlet as she ducks her chin.

It’s no secret we aren’t just friends now. Although, I don’t think anyone ever believed we were… except Leanne and me—sort of. I don’t think I ever truly believed it either. But we haven’t put a label on it, we just are…

I brush my fingers across her jaw and lift her chin to coast my lips across hers. It’s chaste and sweet, but it promises so much more when we lock eyes. Everything between us promises more.

“That’s it?” Becca scoffs. “Boo, lame.”

The whole room erupts in laughter at her protest.

“Oh, leave ’em alone, Bex,” Will interjects. With a gleam of mischief in his eyes, he continues, “If you want to see kissing, you could come over here and—”

But she narrows her eyes and cuts him off by smacking him upside the head, knocking his baseball cap to the ground to reveal his tousled dirty-blond hair. I wonder if I’ll ever understand these two; why my best friend loves to pick on my “little sister” and why she’s so irked by him.

I roll my eyes and return my attention to the mountain of opened gifts surrounding me and Leanne. “I, for one, feel pretty spoiled, how about you?”

Leanne’s examining the pile of presents as well. “You guys did way too much,” she says. Her eyes land specifically on Delia, who went all out on this baby shower with the very enthusiastic help of Kimberly and Leanne’s sisters. There are butterfly decorations everywhere, a nod to the nickname I gave our baby girl but also to the ranch. The giant box with the crib in it is from her and Alex, along with the dresser and changing table we wanted, which were delivered to my house yesterday.

I tried to insist on Leanne and me buying those things, but they outright refused to hear the word no and bought all the furniture anyway.

“It was our pleasure,” Delia responds, eyes glistening with barely leashed tears.

I know this is hard for her, and for Alex and Becca, but no one else does. Of course, the four of us and Will are the only people in this room who know how close our family came to welcoming a baby six years ago. It’s made today bittersweet for me too. We never got to have a shower for Sam. I never got to see Sarah with a belly this round. I never got to experience the joy of fully decorating a nursery before. But I’m getting to do all those things now, and I’m getting to do them with Leanne by my side.

I love Leanne. I love her so damn much. But I can’t tell her yet, because I don’t want to share those words when I’m still holding back about Sam. I want her to have all of me first, because I think she loves me too and that means she deserves the whole truth before I ask her to give me her whole heart. But the closer we get to her due date and the further we stray from where we started, the harder it is to tell her. I’ve waited too long, and now it feels like there will never be a “right” time.

Leanne nudges a basket of clothes with her foot, an array of colors and textures, all of them baby-soft and printed with things like unicorns and flowers. “I think we’re going to be pretty busy getting everything ready over the next ten weeks.”

“You think so?” I quip with a raised brow.

“We’ll help with whatever we can,” Robert pipes in, and there’s a cohesive agreement from both families.

“And I’m all in for babysitting,” Will says.

“Yeah right, I’m not letting you anywhere near my niece,” Becca chirps, and they begin bickering back and forth in the background.

“Who wants cake?” Delia asks, and the group moves as a whole toward the kitchen, leaving Leanne and me for a moment of silence, surrounded by the physical manifestation of the love of our families and friends.

“I can’t believe how much stuff they got us,” she states, scanning the space as she dazedly rubs a blanket against her cheek.

I laugh. “I can.” I slide a hand over her very prominent bump, feeling my baby girl’s elbow skate across my palm. “How are you feeling?”

She grimaces. “Well, that didn’t feel all that great.” She presses her hand over mine. “How is she supposed to grow in there for another ten weeks? I already feel like she’s humongous.”